Relentless
by Kassandra Black
Summary: The story of Shepard from childhood to soldier. Eventual Shenko.
1. Relentless

**AN: It's been a while since I updated this story. Needless to say, I've decided to resurrect it after getting into the writing craze again.**

**This story will follow the life of Shepard as she grows up from a child to the infamous soldier we all know. It will cover aspects of childhood, her time in the Alliance, and the events of ME1, ME2, and ME3 (yep, it's going to be a long ride). Eventual Shenko. ;)**

**A special thanks to Nightodie, who told me: "If a Shepard has shown her colors to you, she wants to be written…don't disappoint her". This story is the result of that one statement. :D**

**Also, thanks to iNf3ctioNZ, TheRev28, and quantumparadigm, who not only took the time to read this but also offered suggestions and encouraged me to upload.**

**I leave you with an intro of sorts…a taste of the end…enjoy!**

* * *

Shepard clenched her teeth against the excruciating pain she felt with every step she took. She could feel the warm blood trickling down her arm, leaving a dotted trail as she slowly limped up the ramp. She let out a low grunt as she reached the tube, determined to see it through despite having every nerve, every muscle in her body burn like it was on fire.

The pistol in her hand was slick with blood, and she tightened her grip on it as she raised her arm and took aim. The first shot rang out.

Joker's image flashed before her eyes.

_Joker, you glorious, cheeky bastard_, she thought ruefully, though the corner of her mouth quirked up into a smile. Always ready with a quip and a sardonic smirk. He'd been with her from the beginning, relentlessly supporting her despite all the trouble she left in her wake. She silently chastised herself for not giving him a proper goodbye…for not telling him what he meant to her. That under all that sarcasm and beneath every wisecrack and stupid one-liner, he was more than her friend…he was her brother.

She pulled the trigger again. Another shot exploded from her pistol.

Kaidan's form materialized in front of her.

Sweet, loving Kaidan, with his serious yet warm eyes that penetrated her very soul. She flinched at the pang in her heart. _I'm so sorry_, she whispered at the thought of so much time wasted. Months spent too afraid of breaking the regs, almost three years of unbearable separation after her death and resurrection...too much time wasted at being angry when she should have made amends. But she was more than grateful for the time she _had_ spent with him. Grateful and thankful to him for pushing past that wall and awakening her heart. _I love you, Kaidan...until the end of time._

Her hand shook as she pulled the trigger yet again, her waning strength suddenly filled with new resolve.

Anderson's face filled her vision.

For a moment, she faltered. A sob got caught in her throat, but she blinked back her tears. The man had started as her mentor and had grown into the father she never had. She'd once told him he had a warrior's soul and a gentle heart. He had saved her from herself, given her a sense of direction from a life she thought was lacking purpose. Through thick and thin, the best of times, the worst of times, her struggles, successes, victories and failures...he had been her rock, the one guiding light when it seemed like everything had gone dark. He was right...she owed him more than one, and she would be damned if she didn't finish what she started. _This is for you, old friend_, she thought ardently, doubling the grip on her weapon with a fierce determination.

Once more, she fired, then gasped in surprise at the heat that blasted her body.

_"I understand, Commander. I don't regret a thing."_

Shepard raised her hands up in a feeble attempt to ward off the intensity of the explosion.

_"Had to be me...someone else might have gotten it wrong."_

The blast sent her flying back, heat enveloping her limp body as it sailed through the air.

_"The universe is a dark place. I'm trying to make it brighter before I die."_

She painfully collided against a far wall, breath knocked out of her at the jarring impact.

_"Does this unit have a soul?"_

Her body slid to the floor, and she let out an agonizing groan.

_"You did good, child. You did good. I'm proud of you."_

It was over. She had destroyed them. She could rest...she could finally rest. The excruciating pain from before was now, thankfully, beginning to numb. Her eyes grew heavy, and with one last sigh, she succumbed to the darkness.


	2. Stars

**AN: This chapter and the next had already been posted as part of this story, but I deleted them to clean them up a little. I've also added a few details that will come into effect in later chapters. I decided to post this up early as a means to get the story flowing.**

* * *

"_It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves."_

_~ William Shakespeare_

She ran as if her life depended on it…and, in her mind, it did. Long, tangled hair whipped behind her as her small body weaved in and out of the throng of people that filled the streets. The heavy footsteps that chased her had long since faded, yet she refused to slow down.

Her legs burned with exertion, and her lungs ached as freezing air rushed through them. Cutting through a deserted alleyway, her mind quickly processed the fastest way to get to her destination. The fastest _and _safest way before night fell.

These backstreets were home to the most notorious gangs, and the last thing she needed was to be caught in some sort of turf war. Living on the streets had toughened her up, made her stronger. She knew what places to avoid, what places were safe, and, most importantly, she knew that trust was a gift not handed out easily. Food and shelter were obvious necessities, and she had been lucky enough to have both, what little she had. But trust…trust was sometimes the difference between life and death.

She turned a corner and slid to a stop, gasping in surprise. A teenaged boy stood in the middle of the alley, a wicked grin on his face. A red bandana was tied around his bicep, and she quickly recognized it as a trademark of the Tenth Street Reds, one of the larger gangs in the vicinity.

He stalked forward, menacingly, purposefully. One hand possessively clutched the items she had stolen to her chest. She had not come this far to have this asshole take them away. Her other hand slowly reached for the hilt of the combat knife strapped to her leg. She was small and young, but she was not stupid. Any venture outside her haven meant danger…and she was always prepared for danger.

The boy smirked, perhaps thinking that a little girl with a knife was nothing to worry about. Puffs of breath emanated from his lips as he sauntered closer. She gripped the hilt tighter, and, before the boy had any time to react, she flipped the blade in her hand and threw it forward.

He went down with a yelp of pain, hands fumbling down to his thigh. Blood soaked his pants as he writhed on the ground still clutching his leg. It was only then that she moved. Each step was slow and calculating, her eyes gauging their surroundings for any other threats. Satisfied that they were alone, she squatted down next to him. He stopped thrashing long enough to look up at her as she reached over him. Curiosity filled his eyes, followed by a pained awareness as he realized, too late, what she was about to do.

He let out another howl of pain as she pulled the knife from his leg, a spurt of blood following the blade. She noted the cold sweat on his brow and the paleness of his face as she wiped the blade on her pants and placed the knife back in its sheath.

She walked away without a word, not even bothering to spare him a second glance. Maybe he would live, maybe he wouldn't. All that mattered was her own survival in this unfair world because, right now, she was surviving for two. And she would die before letting him down.

* * *

The dilapidated building that she called home finally came into view. The brick structure was once a warehouse of some kind, boarded up after business went bust. She squeezed through a large air vent, the only place in or out of the building, and one of the reasons she had chosen it as their shelter.

Once inside, she made her way over to one of the back rooms. A golden head peaked out from beneath a mound of blankets in the corner of the room.

"Remy!" the little boy shouted, flinging himself into the girl's arms.

She smiled, holding him for a few seconds and relishing the warmth of his body. She led him back to the blankets and pulled out a bag from underneath her tattered jacket. A quart of milk was placed in his hands, followed by a stuffed bear.

The boy beamed at her, the look of joy on his face warming her heart. He kissed her cheek, hugging the bear in his arms as she took the cap off the bottle of milk.

She settled the blankets around them, putting an arm around his shoulders as he drank the milk. He looked up at her, milk mustache above his lips.

"Hungry?" he asked, moving the bottle to her hands.

"No," she replied, though her stomach growled treacherously. "I brought it for you. You drink it."

He frowned, now moving the bottle to her lips. She let out a sigh, and took a small sip just to please him. He smiled, satisfied that he had shared before finishing the rest of the bottle.

"I love you, Remy," he whispered, nestling into her side, teddy bear tucked in his arms.

"I love you, too, Robbie," she whispered back, kissing the top of his head.

She placed the empty bottle back in the bag and pulled out her own present to herself. A book – an actual paperback book. She fanned the pages in front of her face, inhaling the unique scent of the paper.

Reading was a survival skill as much as learning to throw her beloved knife or fighting. It was a luxury she had taken the time to study. Many months were spent learning the letters and the words, but once she had caught on, she had captured it quickly. She knew the value of the skills she taught herself. Knew that each skill would give them a chance at a better life.

She leaned her head back against the wall, catching a glimpse of the night sky through a gap in one of the boarded windows. The stars twinkled playfully, and she wondered briefly what it would be like to have a real home, with real parents that tucked you into bed every night. Where the stars could be seen through a perfectly intact pane of glass inside a warm house, rather than hole in a piece of plywood inside a cold, abandoned warehouse.

She shook her head, silently laughing at herself for such stupid notions. Life was what you made of it, and no wishes or dreams could change that. And she was determined to make the most of her life.

A lot depended on that.


	3. Cold

She hated the cold.

The freezing air always had a way of sneaking in no matter what she did to cover up. The only thing it was good for was picking pockets.

She had become a sort of expert. Waiting at just the right moment for her unsuspecting victim to go by, she would bump into them, small hand deftly reaching into their coat and pulling out a wallet or, sometimes, a wad of bills. In most cases, they never even noticed…bumping into a small girl was hardly noticeable, after all, especially when they were in a hurry.

But when they _did_ notice, she would stop, innocent eyes looking up, and offer an apology.

"Excuse me," she would say softly, a faint smile touching her lips.

And they would smile back, waving off her apology, and then continue on their way, not realizing they had just been robbed by the cute little girl with the big innocent eyes.

It was a practice that had become custom…like with her knife. The more she practiced, the better she got. She couldn't afford to be sloppy. Sloppy got you caught. And the last thing she needed was to get caught.

Bump, quick sleight of hand, then on to the next person.

She had to be the fastest. She had to be the best.

* * *

If there was one thing she hated more than the cold, it was leaving her little brother. When she was out, she was constantly worried about him. Or rather, worried someone would find him and take him away, despite her precautions.

Every day out had to be "a good day". She wouldn't settle for anything less. She could pickpocket five people or even twenty. She wouldn't stop until she had enough money to buy enough food to last for a few days. That way, she didn't have to go out as often.

Even then, she was frugal enough to have money left over. She _always_ made sure there was money left over, and she would stuff the bills into a jar hidden in another room in the warehouse. It was an emergency stash…something to fall back on…just in case.

But secretly, she was saving that money for their future. Maybe right now that jar was only half full, but if she kept at it, it would fill up, and then she would go on to another jar and another. She would keep going, keep saving money until there was enough to get their own place. A nice place with big glass windows. Maybe somewhere near the ocean.

Away from the stealing and pickpocketing. Away from the constant struggle to survive. Away from the cold.

* * *

So, it had been a good day. The two bags she was carrying proved that. She was even smiling, content that she wouldn't have to leave her little brother for a while.

But, as she approached the warehouse, her smile faded. The grate to the vent has been moved aside, just enough for someone to crawl through. She placed the bags on the floor, trying to force her heart to stop pounding.

Taking a deep breath, she removed her knife from its sheath and made her way into the vent. A million thoughts went through her head, and they all concluded the same: Robbie. Who was in the warehouse? What did they want? Was Robbie okay?

She was always so careful. Never using the same streets whenever she made her way back home. Always making sure she was never followed. So many precautions, yet there was always that element of danger. That constant risk of losing all that she had worked so hard for. The threat of Robbie being taken away.

Quietly, she moved through the warehouse, steadying the knife in her hand, ready to strike out. Her trained eyes keenly assessed each room, looking out for whoever had moved that vent. A slight shuffling noise caught her ears, followed by a small grunt. She quickened her pace, heart pounding again at the thought of Robbie being hurt.

Then, laughter…Robbie's laughter. She frowned, finally reaching the room and taking in the sight before her. There he was, rolling on the floor laughing as a giant dog licked his face. She let out a sigh of relief. The animal was probably looking for somewhere to hide from the cold, much like them when they first found the warehouse. The only threat the dog posed was possibly licking someone to death considering how much fun it was having with Robbie.

"Remy!" he shouted, finally noticing her standing at the doorway. He moved to stand up, but knelt instead, arm going around the dog's neck. "Can we keep him?"

The last thing they needed was another mouth to feed. She looked down at the scrawny animal wondering how long it had been since it had last eaten. The poor dog looked up at her, finally settling down. It probably realized that she was the one in charge, the one to decide whether it would stay or be kicked out into the cold again.

"Please, please, please?" Robbie cried out, big blue eyes pleading with her. His lips turned down into a sad pout, and he squeezed the dog closer to him.

Having a dog _would_ complicate things. But...it would also make a great companion for Robbie. She would certainly worry less knowing that there was a dog taking care of him whenever she went out.

"I'll take care of him. Promise," Robbie continued imploring her, perhaps taking her silence as a sort of denial.

"Alright," she finally conceded. Letting out another sigh, she wondered briefly who exactly was the one in charge.

They settled down for the night, underneath their mounds of blankets, after they had had their fill from the food she had bought.

"Good night, Remy," Robbie whispered, one arm holding his teddy bear and the other around the dog next to him. "Good night, Billy."

She shifted slightly, a little surprised at the dog's name. "Why Billy?"

Robbie shrugged and rolled his eyes as if her question was redundant. "Because that's his name," he answered, before letting out a loud yawn and finally closing his eyes to sleep.

She stared at him for a few minutes, still pondering the dog's name. Where in the world had he come up with a name like Billy for a dog? She filed it under childhood innocence. Robbie had a way of seeing the world in a different light. Far different than how _she_ saw it. She always made sure to shield him, protect him from the reality of the world they lived in.

Had she ever been that innocent? Had she ever been that young? She had been forced to grow up too soon.

A gust of wind pushed itself into the confines of the room they were in. She shivered, cocooning herself and Robbie under the blankets so as to keep the cold out. The freezing air always had a way of sneaking in no matter what.

She hated the cold.


End file.
